


Sage

by pretive



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Phan - Freeform, Phandom - Freeform, Phanfiction, Piano, phanfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:38:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9280256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretive/pseuds/pretive
Summary: You can go two hundred and sixty four hours without sleep. A wise man will tell you that you shouldn’t go a day without dreaming. Dan doesn’t sleep and Phil doesn’t dream.-Triggers for each chapters will be listed in the notes section before each chapter for safety, and smut warnings will be listed before and after smut scenes. This is an angst filled story, and if you have any triggers, I'd suggest steering away from this story. Stay safe, please.





	1. Prologue || Phil

**Author's Note:**

> Hullo! Jay here, I know, disappointing.
> 
> I'd like to make this the disclaimer stating that I didn't go suddenly on a whim and just DELETE SAGE FOREVER, no, it's much less dramatic. Basically, I've been emotionally detached from my writing for a few months due to personal issues I've been facing. Upon rereading, and with other helpful opinions, I've noticed that there are lots of loose ends, plot holes, and contradicting events in the story that desperately needed fixed, and grammatical and improper errors. Over the past few weeks, I've been going through and re- editing area that needed it desperately, making transitions between chapters smoother, and trying to slow down and develop the characters and the plot that I'd originally come up with. I've also taken things away from the plot, that were distracting or not vital to the plot.
> 
> I'd also like to apologize for any comments that were deleted when I removed the chapters. I've read through all of them (even if i didn't reply), and I've got them all in my email and they're greatly appreciated.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: fighting, arguments, sadness

The heat is stifling this time of year, like the kind you'd feel if you were to climb into a sauna in a snow suit. But he’d been up early (or maybe he hadn’t slept at all) and it was just cool enough to enjoy a cup of coffee and the dew in the air. It was the perfect weather for thinking about life, which was exactly what Phil was doing. The slam of a door could still be heard, as well as the shouts of anger and empty bedsheets, in his mind anyway.

There was another fight, just another one of millions. Phil's not sure what caused it this time; maybe he had forgotten to get milk again, or he didn't have the energy to smile and act like everything was normal. It was probably a mixture of both.

Either way, Lydia had looked him in the eye, spat at his feet, and slammed the door in his face.

As Phil looks out the open window, he starts to focus less on the little spines on his cacti and petals on his lilies and more on the music floating through the much too early atmosphere. That's when he notices the window adjacent to him is open wide, allowing Phil to see the counter mirroring his own. There is still enough space between the houses that it’s hard to make out any details but close enough that he can see the silhouette of his neighbor at a piano.

Phil sets down his mug and settles comfortably on the barstool to listen to the music before the sun gets high enough to disrupt the nice, slightly chilled air. 

The song isn’t one that he’d listen to himself if it hadn’t been played right before him. It is slow at first, picking up speed as it goes on and seemingly cheerful. But after listening for a moment, Phil hears the dreary undertone, and he falls enchanted under the chords. It‘s magnificent, really, that he’s awake to witness a moment like this when he doesn’t have to fight to be understood. The music understands him, even with his dark undereye circles and sad smile. 

The music ends, but Phil still doesn’t move. It’s comforting to just sit alone for once, in peace, instead of dodging angry words across the counter island. 

Phil’s startled by a presence across from him, and he recognizes it as his neighbor. He’d seen him once or twice leaving his house, and had maybe said a word in passing when they saw each other the first few months. 

Daniel, Phil thinks his name is. Daniel seems startled as well when he sees Phil watching him and shyly looks down into his own mug. Phil waves slightly, earning a small wave back. They sit like that for a long while until he sees Dan wipe something off of his face and walk away from the window.

If Phil feels just the slightest bit more lonely afterwards, he won’t admit it.


	2. One || Dan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slight self harm mentions, slight abuse mentions, destructive thoughts, negativity, self negligence.

Why was he crying? Why couldn’t he just function like a normal human and go and actually say hello? Phil was nice, Phil had smiled at him, why couldn’t Dan just smile back and sit there like Phil had, and just enjoyed one person being there? God knew he needed more interaction than just Louise and Darcy, and even they usually only came to make sure Dan hadn’t died in his own lonesome.

Dan didn’t realize he had an audience, or he never would have played. It’s a monstrosity, his playing, or at least that was what he’d been told since he was a child. No matter how many awards and titles or talent offers, he wasn’t good enough. He disappointed his parents, and there was no questioning that. They’d told him outright every day for seventeen years when he lived in Wokingham.

He isn’t living with his parents anymore though. He didn’t go to the school that had ruined his mind, he didn't sleep in the bed he hid in for years. There is plenty of room for him to breathe now, so why couldn’t he? Why couldn’t he just be normal, seek love instead of repelling it?

Maybe is the fact that he’s only had three hour cycles of sleep for the past few months, or the way he spent his nights when he wasn’t sleeping. Hot days were miserable beneath sweater paws.

Maybe it’s the overwhelmingly sad and overcast mind that he’s had since he was a child. He couldn’t live without being sad, he wouldn’t know how. He’s never know another path, he’s always had the same past, and his future is just a short distance ahead, life teetering on the edge to either side of a mountain, and both sides just lead downward.

‘That’s fine,’ he’d told himself once, ‘Wouldn’t want to upset the balance.’ 

He’s been lucky enough to have Louise, who would bring her daughter, Darcy, around for a ‘babysitting service’ and piano lessons. Dan knows she could easily find Darcy a better babysitter and more qualified piano teacher nearer to their house, but she’s just trying to make sure he doesn’t get too lonely. Louise usually drops Darcy off, looks around his apartment to make sure that he isn’t wallowing in his own filth, and leaves for a few hours. He has a job as a web designer, fixing links and working to make different websites look far more appealing than they previously were. He has his own blog as well and makes some money off of ads, but it’s really more a hobby than an actual job. 

Dan is often praised for his aesthetic choices, his eloquence, and his odd way of explaining things that just makes sense. He really doesn’t care, though, because he’s still a college dropout, a successful failure of a musical prodigy, and lonely other than Louise and Darcy.

Dan sets his mug on the counter by the dishwasher, hoping that his future self would put it in there later (he probably wouldn’t.) His hair's still curly from his early shower, and he hasn’t put on presentable clothing yet either. He decides to start with the clothes, and afterwards, he plugs in his straightener to burn his still-wet locks.

He wants to fall back into bed and never wake up again, but he’s got more willpower than that, and the person most likely to find him would be Louise. He couldn’t do that to her. He probably couldn’t get to sleep anyways.

That’s not the point of today, though. Today he has a well paying job lined up, and he’ll be able to afford his next two months of bills and living expenses. It’s nice, having money for once, even if it doesn’t cover luxuries. Granted, he could buy a smaller house, but this is as close as he’ll ever get to a house feeling like home. Plus, it has a piano.

Dan loses track of time when a knock sounds on the door. A quick look at his clock tells him that it’s no longer eight in the morning but three in the afternoon. His throat is dry, his stomach is growling, and he has a slight migraine. He still decides to take care of who’s at the door before he takes care of himself. 

To his not-so-great surprise, it’s Louise, complete with a tote bag and a smiling Darcy.

“Dan, you look positively drained, love! Darcy, go sit by the piano please.” Darcy flies around the corner to the piano and plops on the bench, which creaks and groans from the unstable boards. She guides Dan to the couch, ignoring the light notes sounding through the air as Darcy presses the keys. “Matt is picking Darcy up here after the lesson. I figured you and I could have an us night afterwards if you’re up for it. Though by the way you look, it seems you probably need more rest than alcohol.”

Dan pops his neck and rolls his shoulders to work out the tension in his muscles. “I just need a little bit to eat and drink, that's all. Maybe some aspirin.” Louise rolls her eyes but nods in agreement. 

Darcy is practicing ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ as they reach the kitchen just across the way from the piano. Louise pours him a Ribena as he places some bread in the toaster. They work as a pair, getting things done in double time. They do this often, as Louise gets lonely without Darcy, and Dan would forget to feed himself if it wasn’t for her. 

“Darcy, love, would you mind playing with your stuffy for a while? Uncle Daniel has a slight migraine,” Louise asks politely, and Darcy nods with a huff. 

“Mum, his name is Wolfie,” Darcy states firmly, and Dan chuckles softly. 

Louise smacks herself lightly on the forehead. “Of course, I’m sorry love, Wolfie.” The toast pops up and she spreads the butter on the toast while Dan takes his medicine, and Darcy and Wolfie make their residence on Dan’s fluffy rug. 

“Dan, I’ve picked up this herbal medicine for you to try out. It’s called Melatonin. It’s what the body produces when it’s making you fall asleep. I wonder if part of your sleeping problem is just your body not producing enough. Just try it for a while, for me. You and I also need to talk about something tonight. It’s important.” She sets a bottle down on the counter, and Dan stares at it for a bit before shrugging indifferently. 

 

Dan downs the glass in a few gulps, and eats the toast quickly. Louise watches disapprovingly but doesn’t object when Dan calls Darcy to the piano and begins the lesson. Instead, she disappears to see how Dan has been picking up and keeping after himself. 

Dan doesn’t notice Louise’ disappearance as he slowly explains the different chords like it had been explained to him long ago. Darcy quickly bores of listening to Dan drone on about music theory, and beings to ask questions about Dan’s playing. 

“How old were you when you started piano?”  
“Four. Just a little bit younger than you are.”  
“Can you play Victor’s song? From the Corpse Bride? Mummy says you love that movie.”  
“I can, actually. Would you like me to?” Dan asks the child gently. He has a soft spot for children. He’s always wanted to give any child he came across a happier childhood than the one he’d had, whether or not they were his own. 

Louise watches from around the corner as Darcy giddily bounces on the bench beside Dan. She watches Dan’s muscles tense and concentrate on his position before relaxing into the familiar music. Louise hasn’t been let on to a lot of what Dan’s parents had done in his childhood, but she knew they had mistreated him and shaped his mind around their cruel words. 

If anyone deserves happiness, it’s Dan. Louise just hopes that he finds it soon.


	3. Two || Phil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Cheating, alcoholism, anger issues, fighting, relationship issues, misunderstandings, sadness

Lydia shows up near midnight, stumbling, clothes laying haphazardly on her body. It isn’t exactly hard to tell what happened. 

They make eye contact over the lid of Phil’s laptop, and it’s filled with betrayal, sadness, and anger. She kicks off her heels and pulls off her top, and Phil doesn’t bother looking. He’s seen her enough to know what she has to offer, and the marks others had left on what she’d offered up to them. 

She strips right in the middle of the room, and clears her throat. He makes eye contact once again, eyebrows raised halfway between irritation and questioning. “Sleep in the spare tonight.” Phil nods in agreement, looking back down at his report due for the BBC before aftermorrow. 

Lydia huffs, earning an irritated glance from Phil. “You don’t even try anymore!” she accuses, arms wide in challenge. 

Phil wants to say so much, about how hard she tries, about all of the hard-ons she tries every night. “I didn’t know that I had to try anymore. Looks like plenty of others are doing it for me,” he snaps back, shutting his laptop and standing up to face her.

“Maybe I want your attention!” Lydia yells, and he knows she’s trying to rile him up.

Phil gesticulates widely. “Go find someone else to give you attention, I’m tired of this.” His voice stays at one level, already too tired to fight back. 

“We aren’t breaking up. You don’t know how to live without me.” She holds her head high, but her voice is panicky and her eyes hold fear. 

Phil rubs his eyes in defeat. “Go to bed Lydia.” They lock eyes once more, exhaustion and discontent burning in the cold blues of each other’s eyes. Both of them want to give up. It’s been eleven years, and really, they didn’t know how to live without each other. 

Maybe there had been a time when they were a happy couple, when Phil did romantic things often and she serenaded him in the mornings with a happy smiles. In fact, Phil still has the photos from the beginning of their relationship, bright eyes and brilliant smiles. He hadn’t gotten them out in years. 

All of it had gone down hill when she cheated the first time. Lydia got so defensive, guarded, and secretive. She was manipulative, a liar, a cheat, and Phil still loved her. It was eight years in at the time, of course he loved her. Just not like he did before. 

So they played pretend, like there wasn’t tension looming in the air around them, like they were still happy. Phil gave her piggyback rides in the park, and they still went on picnics, but it wasn’t the same. She’d betrayed him, hadn’t even apologized, not once. 

It hurt, and the second time she was caught with another man, in their bed, no less, Phil drowned out the moans in scotch and loud music playing through his headphones. They didn't talk about it for weeks. They still don’t talk about it like they should, but at least they acknowledged it, even if they both lost a little more respect for the other after every fight. 

Phil had loved Lydia, but not anymore. He had finally fallen out of love, and all he has to do is leave.

Dear God, he wishes he could leave. But his parents expect so much from them, his friends, and their friends. It’d be too hard to start over and start a family in time. At his age, it really isn't an option to start over. 

Maybe it'd be a better part of his life if he tried though. He could still find someone, if he looked hard enough.

Phil had lost his will for a lot of things; marrying Lydia and having a long happy life with children and maybe a dog. He had once wanted to be a film producer, or a weatherman. Phil had once hoped his relationship would be enough and that he wouldn’t look at other men and women the way he wishes he could look at his own fiancee. He’d lost his hope, his dreams for the future.

 

He shuts his laptop and retreats to the kitchen for some tea. He needs time to think and time to mourn and also celebrate his loss. He watches through the window of the kitchen as Daniel and a girl talk across the counter. 

She’s talking to him with a sad face and gentle touches on Daniel’s hand, and he’s looking down towards the counter. His shoulders are slumped and his face is pale, looking at Phil with light casting shadows on his face. She pulls away and leans down to grab something, coming back up with a tote bag. She pats him on the shoulder once before leaving, and after her figure is out the front door, Phil looks back at Daniel whose shoulders are shaking and hands are cupping his face. It’s only then does he realize that Dan had been crying that morning, wiping away tears. Now, he has been dumped and left, and Phil can almost empathize with him. 

Phil looks away from the window with a sigh, too tired to function anymore. He’s witnessed a breakup and been denied his own. He doesn’t flinch when the stairs creak and Lydia fails to sneak out, the soft click of their squeaky door giving her away. He does flinch when Daniel begins to sob because for once, he can sympathize and it hurts him too. 

When he falls asleep that night, ignoring the sounds of a door clicking shut to the house, he falls into a dreamless sleep.


	4. Three || Dan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Hopelessness, mild cursing, crying, depression, numb, loneliness, insomnia, mentions of past verbal and physical abuse, light self harm mentions.

So this is why she needed an ‘us night’? To take give something in return to make up for what she was about to take away? Dan couldn’t believe it, he didn’t want to. Louise is his only constant, the only real thing he held onto since leaving Wokingham and London. Why was it that he couldn’t maintain one proper close relationship of any kind without them leaving?

“You know I wouldn’t take this job unless I had to, and I have to. I’ll come to visit you twice a week when Darcy is with Matt, and you’re welcome to visit me anytime, love.” Louise tries to comfort him with repeated strokes of her thumb over his hand, but he’s unmoving. He doesn’t exactly know what’s happening. He does know to some degree, obviously, but physically and mentally, he’s still confused.

Louise had taken a new job, but where? Why? Why did she need to move for it? Where was she moving? He’s only half listening but he’s gotten the gist. Louise is moving away and he would hardly see her anymore. He wouldn’t even get to see Darcy anymore.

It takes about ten more strokes of her thumb on the top of his hand for Dan to awaken from his trance with a nod and a small and painfully obvious faux smile. “I’m glad you found something. I’ll try to come over some.” Even if both of his statements were lies, they continue their sad and fake smiles until Louise bids her farewell and takes her things with her.

Dan begins to cry once the door is shut behind her, because the two people he truly had are gone and because it hurts so much. Nothing ever prepares you for the pain once the numbing agent wears off. His chest hurts, his head, his eyes burn, and his legs feel like gelatin. 

Dan sees his neighbor out of the corner of his eye and feels humiliated. Phillip Lester has a beautiful significant other, a family that visits regularly, a pristine lawn, and many other things Dan really doesn’t. Phil has so many people in his life compared to Dan, and it almost made Dan jealous, but Phil has been very welcoming and neighborly and probably thinks Dan is a basket case of shitty piano playing and tears. 

After a few minutes with the awareness of Phillip just across the small patch of yard between houses, Dan shuts off the kitchen light and blindly leads himself to his bathroom. There, he strips off his clothing and turns on the shower. He doesn’t care that it’s burning his skin; his tears are as equally hot on his face.

He's alone again and it feels almost as lonely as when he lived with his parents.

It must be an hour later and the water has run cold for such a long time that he's practically shivering and as numb as he’d felt before Louise had given him the news. His skin is irritated as he steps out of the shower and looks at himself in the mirror.

Closely, he looks at himself for the first time in months. He looks like a stranger to himself. His skin had always been nicely tanned, his hair so much thicker and healthier, and he had always had that nice amount of body fat to make him filled out and presentable. Now his skin looks taut on his bones. The only thing about himself he recognizes is his eyes and the dark circles underneath, echoing sadness and sleep deprivation. 

It makes him wonder what’s changed. He’s escaped that home, he’s found himself in a comfortable area of life. He has a job, a hobby, a friend. Maybe it’s just the loneliness. Louise could only be around so often, unlike the maids and the bustling inside of his parent’s house. Maybe it’s the fact that he no longer has a goal in life, that he doesn’t have to worry about disappointing anyone. He has no purpose, no goals, no real will to live.

When he lived with his parents, his will to live, his purpose, his goals were all to be the prodigy that his parents wanted. He practiced until bruises lined his fingertips, until he could play it half asleep and with his eyes shut. He knew the pieces by heart, could play any piece laid down in front of him. But he’d go a beat too slow or would fall behind on a page turn, or he’d hit a wrong note and for every mistake he was punished. 

One on his face, a couple on his wrists, and far too many words were thrown, and he’d carry them around for the rest of his life. Now the silence around him feels just as painful and heavy as the words and bruises had. Since he was a child, he carried around moths in his stomach, there to eat away at him.

He’s got nobody but himself, and his stomach full of moths, and now a bottle of cheap medicine.

He doesn’t think that’ll be enough.


	5. Four || Phil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Actually it's a relatively light chapter.

It’s almost eleven when Phil wakes up from his place on the couch. He’d fallen asleep there after waiting up to see if Daniel would reappear, to no avail. He’d paid more attention to his neighbor than himself recently.

His laptop is void of life and his neck is painfully tense from falling asleep with this head to the side. He rolls his shoulders a few times and stands up to stretch. He looks out the window and internally groans when he sees how overcast it is.

Their fridge is practically empty, and since Lydia is too busy eating out of other people’s fridges and other things, Phil would have to sustain himself. Life doesn't stop for a broken heart (if that was the term for it). He’s probably smelly and looks like he’s given up entirely as far as hygiene goes, but he plugs in his laptop and grabs his coat anyway. Phil double checks that nothing can catch fire while he’s gone and grabs the keys from the bowl by their door. At least Lydia had been considerate enough to leave the car.

Phil decides to take the long route to the local produce market. There’s always less traffic and better scenery with well kept lawns and flowerbeds. Rain hits the windshield lightly, and a tall figure dressed in black walks by. Phil isn’t exactly inclined to ask what they’re doing out in the cold rain like this, but when he recognizes Daniel, his neighbor, he’s a lot less worried about being robbed at gunpoint. 

“Daniel, is it?” Phil calls out of his window. Light droplets are hitting his arm, but it really doesn’t phase him. Daniel seems to startle, and looks worried until he recognizes Phil. 

“It’s Dan,” he calls back. Phil grins at him politely. He always did like learning little things about people.

“Well Dan, what are you doing in the rain? You’re bound to come down with something.” Dan shrugs, coming closer to the vehicle.

Phil takes the time to look at him a little closer. He’s quite attractive, with fair skin and coffee coloured eyes. His black pea coat accentuates his thin and lanky body, and Phil can’t help but to be slightly attracted to him. But Dan also looks exhausted and sad, and Phil doesn’t want to try anything on someone who’s just been seemingly dumped. Not that he would, that would make him just as bad as Lydia. 

Phil spends so much time taking in Dan’s appearance that he almost misses Dan’s reply; “I’m walking to the market. Usually my friend Louise does this.” Phil feels a pang in his own chest at the sadness in Dan’s eyes as he mentions Louise. That’s probably the girl who Phil had seen break up with Dan. 

“That’s a long walk. At least thirty minutes from our houses, let me give you a lift, please.” Phil offers. Dan shakes his head. “Please, I could use the company anyways.” Dan gives him a half smile and agrees with a small nod. He climbs in and sits in the seat with a satisfied sigh. 

 

Phil turns on the seat warmer and focuses on the road instead of Dan. 

It takes about six minutes to reach the produce market, and they get out of the car in a comfortable silence. Phil loses sight of Dan quickly, and as he pays, he notices Dan walking back toward their houses. 

Phil shakes his head with a half grin. 

 

He gets in his car to warm it up and drives up to Dan. “What are you doing, you turnip! You’re going to freeze!” Dan blushes and shrugs, opening the door when Phil wildly gestures for him to get in. 

“I didn’t want to overstay my welcome,” Dan murmurs shyly. Phil hopes the blush on his cheeks are from embarrassment and not from freezing himself in the rain.

Phil chuckles and shakes his head fondly. “We live right beside each other. It’s really not a problem to drive you anywhere. I need to get out of the house more often, so if you’ve ever got somewhere you need to be, just call. That goes for anything else too, if you need me, call.” Phil shuffles his wallet out of his back pocket and pulls out his business card he’d jokingly made with his number on it. 

The car ride goes much too fast and soon Dan is saying his thanks and goodbyes, and Phil is entering the house with a skip in his step and a happier heart than he had woken up with. 

Phil hopes Dan will call him at some point. Even if it’s just as friends, Phil would love to hang out with him at some point. Both of them are pretty lonely it seems, and together it might be only half as bad.


	6. Five || Dan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of self harm, mentions of cheating in a relationship, lack of eating, alcohol mention, destructive behavior.

It’s the next day, right after Phil gave him his number. Phil had been undeniably attractive up close, but Dan was above hitting on someone in a relationship. Phil had been so kind and bright and sweet to him, and Dan had literally soaked the seat of his car with rain water because Phil insisted. Why had he gone out in the first place? He hadn’t even returned with anything.

Phil had given him his number and an instruction to call if he needed anything, and Dan really needed a friend at the moment. He knows for a fact that it’s Louise’s night with Darcy, and a school night nonetheless, and she no doubt has unpacking. He should have gone and helped, but she’d insisted that she could manage. Despite his guilt and loneliness and need to talk to somebody, he couldn’t just call her and keep her awake like that. Phil has his own life as well, he doesn’t need Dan calling him at ungodly hours of the morning just because he’s lonely again. 

Dan hadn’t cleaned in a while, had he? In fact, he hasn’t even turned on the lights as of late. He decides he should probably turn the lights on to see how much of a mess he’s made over the past few days of moping around the flat. He closes his eyes to prepare for the blinding lights, and flinches when they turn on. They’re so bright. It doesn’t take but a few seconds for him to decide it really wasn’t worth it. He had no fight, no motivation to live today, and especially no motivation to clean up the untidy mess he’d left himself on the table.

He feels like shit, if he’s being honest, and he should probably express it in a healthy way somehow, but he’s tired of relying on other people to be there as an emotional bucket. He wishes he could just let it be over with. Dan was frankly tired of having hardly anyone in his life that cared or checked in often, other than the three or four that did regularly to make sure he was still on the face of the earth. So he released the moths from his body when the moon was out and he couldn’t stand to sleep. 

He wished he wasn’t alone in the first place so he’d never had started feeling like this, thinking like this again, and he wishes that there weren’t that three or four now because it would make it that much easier to finish things off. Then he’d have absolutely no purpose, no will, no real reason to stay around. 

Dan hates himself for many reasons, and dependence is one of them. 

He’d never be able to live to his parent’s standards, he’d never be able to maintain a friendship with someone, and he’d never find someone else who actually likes him, in any way shape or form. He’s practically unlovable. 

Dan huffs out a breath of discontent and leads himself to his room. He leaves his door open and climbs into bed, jeans and all, staring at the wall beside him and wondering if he could just fade away into the air if he tried hard enough. 

His stomach is grumbling angrily at him, and his eyes are shot from exhaustion and holding back tears, yet he stares ahead until he can't keep his eyes open. 

When Louise calls, he fakes a cheery voice, and when she sees through it and shows up later, he's not surprised. He’s such a nuisance, Louise drove all the way here just to make sure he was alright, and what has he done? Jack shit.

To avoid Louise driving out of her way, he makes sure he's presentable when she face times him each day for the next few days, and then lays back down to dissipate into thin air. 

X

It’s almost eleven at night, a few nights later, that he’s prompted to get out of bed by a knock on the door. A look through the peephole reveals a red faced Phil holding a bag of stuff, and Dan immediately opens the door. He’s got short sleeves on because he had been in the comfort of his own home, and the chilly air hits them light a shock wave.

“What on earth are you doing outside without a coat at this time of night, in the rain no less? Come in, come in,” Dan ushers, and hopes that his flat didn’t look a mess when he turns on the too-bright light and grabs a hoodie off of his coat rack quickly.

Thankfully, it looks alright due to Louise’s impromptu visit, and Dan shows Phil to the couch where he sits with his face in his hands. Dan pulls the sleeves of the hoodie down and turns the heat up on his way to the couch to sit by his guest.

“I’m so sorry, I should have just gone to a hotel or something but the keys were in her pocket and I can’t walk and you’re right here-” Phil’s babbling and Dan is stunned. “I know we only properly talked like once and I’m so sorry for showing up uninvited, but you’re the only person close by that I actually kind of know. All of my family lives in Manchester, and Lydia is gone and I’m all alone and I don’t want to be there when she gets back-” Dan is reading the signs, and it’s a familiar feat to what he went through during preparations for each and every recital and competition; a panic attack.

Dan sees him shaking and quickly grabs Phil’s wrists without thinking about it, warming Phil’s hands between his own and rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. It was a move Louise had done many times to soothe him and he turned red when he realized what he was doing. He didn’t stop as it seemed to be working to calm Phil down, even though Phil soon started to release tears and a sudden hiccup that smelt faintly of alcohol.

“Phil, are you, mind me, but are you drunk?” Phil chuckles through his tears and wipes a few off of his cheek. Dan feels a little ashamed that he’s only able to come up with that question after Phil just came down from a panic attack.

“No, I don’t like getting drunk. It was just a full glass of wine. Like, not a bottle, just the glasses.” Phil uses hand gestures to represent the size of the bottles and glasses, Dan feels humor bubble in his chest, and the small amount of endorphins that travel through his system make him feel a half a head better. 

Dan nods in understanding. “Alright. Can I get anything for you?” He asks politely, letting go of Phil’s hands gently as Phil calms down. Phil’s eyes are light blue and red rimmed, and if it wasn’t tears that had caused them to look so stunning, Dan would wish for them to be that blue all of the time.

Phil straightens himself out and rolls his shoulder, stretching his muscles. “If you have tea that would be great.” 

Dan stands and stretches out his own muscles, sore from laying in bed for hours on end. “I’ll be in here for a while. You can come in if you want but you probably want to be left alone so you don’t have to.” Dan mumbles awkwardly, fingers dancing nervously out of his hoodie paws and onto his leg out of habit. 

Phil just smiles a sad smile and stands as well. “I’d love company right now actually.” 

Phil sits in one of the chairs up against the island, and Dan puts a kettle on the stove and starts it up. 

It’s quiet for a few moments when Phil speaks, probably prompted by the little bit of alcohol in his veins. “Your flat’s nice. Empty.” Phil’s eyes widen as soon as he says it. “I’m sorry, I just mean, it’s very clean, there’s just not much stuff in it. I’ve got too much stuff.”

Dan shrugs, looking around. He hadn’t ever really thought about it until now, and notices all the empty space and awkward placement of things. 

“I didn’t bring anything other than clothes when I moved. At some point if I have the money I had originally planned on buying new furniture. I think the only thing I’ve bought since was a Christmas tree and some lights.” Dan moves to the cabinet and pulls out two mugs and then collects sugar and a spoon to prepare the tea.

Phil perks up. “What kind of lights?” Dan shrugs, moving to grab the kettle as it begins to whistle, shutting off the stove. “Two spoons of sugar and some milk if you have it.” Phil, adds, a slight hiccough accompanying it.

“Christmas lights. The white LED ones.” Dan finishes the tea, sliding Phil’s toward him and taking a seat across the counter as Phil sighs in satisfaction. The pains in Dan’s stomach have suddenly subsided as well as his headache, both of which he hadn’t noticed until they were gone.

Phil licks his upper lip clean of the froth from the top of the tea, and sets it down. Dan doesn’t let himself think about it too much. “You should hang the lights up in your living room. It’d look nice, I think.” Dan shrugs, not having thought of that before. “I could help if you want.” Phil was slightly tipsy, Dan could tell. But he seemed to enjoy playing renovator, and Dan appreciated an (alcohol induced) honest opinion on the emptiness of the flat.

Dan sips on his own tea, not paying mind to the burn and tingling on his tongue. “If you want. I think I have some push pins somewhere, would that be strong enough?” Phil gulps down the last of his tea, nodding.

“It should be. C’mom, drag em out. Unless you want to sleep, it's eleven thirty. Sorry again, for waking you.” Phil twiddles his thumbs, suddenly looking down self-consciously. 

Dan sips his slowly still, taking his time. He'd be sick if he drank too quickly, after fasting for this long. He tries out the idea in his mind, and decides that it’d be something that would replace the all too bright lights and make the flat a bit more comfortable. “That would be lovely, actually.” Dan shoots Phil a soft grin and sets down the mug, going to the storage closet nearby. He pulls out two boxes of unopened lights, and Phil takes one to open while Dan does the other. 

It’s about twenty minutes later (and one thousand tiny pricks into the palm of his hand) when they step back and look at their ‘masterpiece’. They’d lined the edges of the wall with the lights, and after shutting off the big light to the room, there is a soft and warm glow resonating around the area, shining off of the piano softly. 

Dan turns to Phil, and he sees something that strikes him as oddly familiar, maybe it’s the dark circles under his eyes, or the lights that light up his eyes. 

Dan can’t help but hope Phil will stick around, even after his breakthrough of being unlovable. 

He doesn’t need to be lovable, he just needs to be tolerable. 

Dan needs a friend.


	7. Six || Phil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Brief analogies to self harm, alcohol mentions, cheating in a relationship mention.
> 
> I switched the Point of View toward the end on accident, so the last few lines are in Dan's point of view instead of Phil's.

Phil wasn’t as confident now that the buzz was wearing off, but Dan’s eyes lit up in the light and made him feel better about his suggestion to put them up. Dan had sweater paws hanging down to his mid thigh, and his hair was haphazard from their work. If Phil was the slightest bit more intoxicated (it really was wearing off, but he could still feel it) he’d have leaned over and kissed Dan. 

But he wasn’t drunk enough, and he wasn’t Lydia, he wouldn’t let himself taste somebody else’s lips when he was already committed to someone else. It didn’t matter how much he wanted to, or was attracted to Dan, and it didn’t matter that it would be considered just as fair for him to press his lips to another’s when she’s done far worse. He’s loyal, and that’s something he won’t allow to change. (No matter how long it had been since he felt something for her.)

Plus, Phil wouldn't kiss someone he barely knew, even with the liquid confidence. He could admire Dan all he wanted, but he had only met him a mere week ago, and he was already engaged. 

Dan’s smiling softly, and Phil admires him for it. He’s looking at it like it’s his saving grace, like it’s everything new and pure in the world. Phil can’t help but to feel the slightest bit proud that he brought this light- most literally- to him. 

“So do they look alright?”   
“Amazing.”  
“It really is, isn’t it?” 

“Phil?” Dan wonders softly. Phil turns to Dan, not knowing what to expect from the boy. “What did you think of my piano playing when you heard me the other morning? Like, presuming you heard. I just figured you did, like-” Dan begins to ramble, just to silence himself when he hears Phil’s small chuckles. Phil sees a red tint coming to Dan’s face and rushes to respond before he got the wrong idea.

Phil grins at him tiredly, alcohol wearing off as well as his energy, and he yawns a bit while he speaks. “You’re absolutely amazing Dan. I was enchanted, one might say. The music felt more like feelings, and less like notes on a sheet that you’re correlating with keys connected to wires that are making sounds in response. If-if that makes sense, you know.” He trails off awkwardly, but doesn’t miss Dan’s look of not happiness nor amusement, but almost sadness and shock. “To make a long story short, it was beautiful, Dan.” Phil reassures, wondering if it was his words that had made him look so sad, but only receiving a curt nod and a clear of the throat in response. 

“Thank you.” Dan murmurs after a few moments of silence spent watching the lights. “My guest room is full at the moment, but you’re welcome to stay in my bed. I’ll pull out the couch bed for myself.” Phil’s eyes avert from the lights, realizing once more why he’s here. And how he’s suddenly kicking a man out of his own bed in his own home, and that he’s being a total dick right now. 

Phil is quick to object. “I literally showed up at your house at an ungodly hour, and demanded we put lights up, you can have the bed.” Phil objects, fighting off his own yawns. 

Dan huffs out the equivalent to a laugh, and shakes his head. “You’re my guest, Phil.” 

“Let’s share the bed then.” Phil offers.  
“Really?”  
“Like a sleepover. We can make popcorn and watch an episode of Friends.”  
“A sleepover?”  
“Yes, any more questions?”  
“Just one.”  
“Shoot.”

“You don’t have to answer, but why are you here Phil?” Dan questions softly. Phil had come in distraught, and he might be crossing a line and ruining his chances at maybe having a friend. 

Phil turns to him and gives him a sad half smile. “Lover’s troubles, I guess.” He coughs and shrugs, gesturing toward the hallway. “Shall we?”

Dan doesn’t say anything for the remainder of the night. Not when Phil says goodnight, nor when he thinks Phil has finally fallen asleep. 

Dan thinks about taking the medicine Louise brought, he really does, but he doesn’t want to sleep when the definition of perfection is resting right beside him, he wants to study him. 

The moon taunts him as moths try to eat their way out of him, but are overtaken by the butterflies that he feels when he notices a new freckle or mark on Phil’s resting form.

He doesn’t mumble his thoughts to himself like normal, and nor does he reply when Phil finds him in the kitchen in the morning after a sleepless night, saying a good morning. 

He does, however, reply after a question. “How did you sleep?”

“Very well, thank you.” Not at all.


	8. Seven || Phil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Light mention/analogy of self harm, cheating in a relationship, breakup, use of drugs and alcohol

The next few days is full of window sill eye contact and soft smiles, hiding the pain of what's going on behind the glass of the fragile window.

Dan hides his loneliness by keeping the fairy lights lit up and the radio on, the windows open even in rain to invite in sound of some kind, while underneath scalding showers, Dan releases moths and sadness. Phil hides the deceit going on by shutting out sound from the rest of the world, trying to avoid the sounds of guilty pleasure by catering to his work and plants, and playing music just a bit too loud. 

Three days in is when the fall out happens. Phil leaves for two hours to meet his brother for dinner as he’d come by for business, and comes back to a house full of drunken, stoned low-lives. Lydia freezes, caught in the act, and drunkenly drags and pushes the druggies out the door and to a lesser part of town. 

She screams at Phil as he yells for people to exit his house, for everyone to be rid of his sight. He's so tired of this. Lydia doesn't have most of her clothes on, and Phil wonders to himself. When had she become like this?

Lydia was a sweet girl, one he met in primary school and grew to love. He proposed to her two years ago, promising the rest of his life to her. Trying to make it through whatever the hell started this mess. He didn’t know this Lydia. 

He knew a girl with heavy blue eyes and auburn hair that spread out behind her when she laid down, and midnight dancing when she decided to pull him away from his assignments. Lydia then and Lydia now seemed like totally different people, and he didn’t like this Lydia at all.

He could handle her disappearances and her lies, her unfaithfulness, but bringing drugs and people into the home- house- as a recreational activity was out of hand. 

“What the actual fuck Lydia?” Phil curses, and he hears his voice thrown back at him in a swimming haze. "Leave. I'm done.” He finishes, voice not angry or challenging or loud anymore, just tired. “I can't do this. Stop tearing yourself apart and dragging me under. Go stay with your parents tonight, or whoever else will take you, but please, be back by the end of the week to get your stuff or I'm donating it. Other people would be more appreciative of what they have.” He murmurs, sitting down on the couch numbly. He doesn't know he's begun to cry until he puts his face in his hands.

She starts to scream at him, begging, accusing, it all blurs together. What Phil does know is that it's far too much to handle on a beautiful night like this, one you'd spend with someone you love, not arguing. He imagines through her anger that he could have found someone in the past eleven years that could have been here to enjoy the beautiful night with, snuggled up together by an open window. Phil shakes his head and gestures to the door, to which she stops dead in her tracks.

“You're not going to fight for me?” She asks softly, sounding like the Lydia he knew, but sorrowful. Like he was the one shattering her heart. He feels the air still around them, and suddenly it all clicked together and he’s just too tired. 

“I've fought long enough. You don't want me to win anymore. Please leave.” Phil picks up his laptop and takes it around the corner to the kitchen and sets it down. The echo of the door clicking shut quietly rings in his mind for what seems like forever. He has a feeling she won't come back. With shaky fingers Phil pulls down a mug from the cupboard. Across the way is a man with beautiful brown ringlets atop his head falling asleep at the window. His head is rested on his palm and his face screams exhaustion, even from a distance where Dan is sitting. Phil notices it's raining. That usually does the trick. 

Phil slides open the window, wishing the rain to stay outside of his house, just letting the breeze sweep in and scoop out the deceit, alcohol, and marijuana stench. Dan stays still, staring at the rain like it's the one thing keeping him alive. Phil wonders if it was the sound of the commotion just across their boundaries that kept Dan up. 

Phil brews a cup of coffee into the mug he scouted out earlier, sipping and burning his mouth without a care. Phil stays there and watches Dan until the sleepy man falls asleep, head and arm going slack and falling against the counter. That's when Phil shuts the window and lays on the loveseat, chuckling darkly to himself at the irony. He'd only stay there because it would have been too small for Lydia’s tall form have ruined it’s innocence. Hopefully.

The coffee is bitter, but it's gone soon enough. Phil doesn't fall asleep for another few hours, mulling over the past, present, future, and life in general. Lydia was gone. She might come back for material items, but she wouldn't come back for his love. He’d given enough of that. 

When Phil puts his mug away, he smiles sadly at Dan, Phil laying his head awkwardly upon his arms. Phil wishes he could handle staring at the rain to mull him to sleep, instead of feeling like it's heaven's tears crying for him like his grandmother had once told him. Dan might appreciate that fact, had Phil the courage to tell him. Dan didn't seem like the religious type. 

 

The rain is there, washing out everything but the memories of good and bad happenings in the structure, but it was refreshing, like a clean slate as she left, and he let go, finally. He feels rain droplets hitting his cheek, washing away his troubles as they fell from his eyes.

Whether it's the rain from the sky or the rain from his eyes, Phil falls asleep to the sound.


	9. Nine || Dan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Fight mention, abuse mention, alcohol mention, use of the same self harm analogy (moths), use of the word 'homicidal' for analogy/exaggeration purposes instead of its regular use.

Dan listened to the screaming. He stayed up for the next few hours to see if Phil would come over after he hears a door slam. Around eight is when the obnoxious noises and music stops and the screaming starts. 

It's mostly the girl, Dan can tell, and he grimaces when she yells. It was almost always his mother’s angry yells, similar in sound to Phil’s fiancee, ringing through the house as his Dad slowly filled with rage. It gave him unwanted flashbacks of his angry mother with nails sharp as claws cutting through the skin of his arms and shoulders and cheeks when he messed up, or the angry actions of a piss drunk father.

The yells stop around fifteen minutes later, and Dan makes two cups of tea just in case Phil would decide to make a presence, making sure the Christmas lights are lit and there's a blanket on the couch, ready to comfort Phil if he needed it.

Dan stares out the window for a while, sipping on his tea and staring through the glass and at the rain. It was falling gently, like trying to grow something new. Like it was washing away the old things and letting new ones grow. 

Dan looks at the time on his phone and it's nine o’clock. Dan’s suddenly exhausted, but he continues staring out the window at the earth’s natural cleanser. It was like it was trying to grow something new in him, starting with sleep. When had he slept last? Had he slept at all last night? The past two nights? 

Phil never shows up, no matter how much Dan would enjoy the company. He just had a major fight with his wife-to-be, why would he want to see Dan? Dan shrugs to himself, moving to lay his head on his hand, staring relentlessly at the droplets sticking the screen of the window. The breeze feels nice, he thinks, when he doesn't have to go outside to feel it. 

His mind slowly drifts away from Phil and to the rain, and he pops two of the herbal pills into his mouth, swallowing it down with a cooled tea. The moths could wait.

x

When Dan wakes up, it's to a buzzing counter and an obnoxiously loud ringtone. He lifts his head and sees Louise’s contact picture, and he answers it quickly before it goes to voicemail. 

“Hello? Louise what time is it?” He mumbles, eyes adjusting to see the stovetop clock. One in the afternoon? How had he slept so long?

“Daniel? Were you asleep? What time did you go to bed?” Louise worries. Dan groans and straightens out his spine.

“Midnight, I think. Why?” He stands to work whilst he talks.

“Oh my! That's great, Dan! A little unconventional way to recharge, but considering you're nocturnal it doesn't surprise me. Was it the medicine?” Dan pops his neck and pours his tea as well as Phil’s cold one down the drain.

Dan unplugs the lights and opens up the blinds and windows only to find out it's still raining. The rain was falling relatively straight down, if a few drops got in it wouldn't hurt anything. 

“Maybe, but I was also exhausted when I took it. Anyways, what did you need Louise?” He asks, stretching out properly. While it wasn’t unlike Louise to call at random times, it was slightly odd to hear from her on weekdays mid afternoon. She had a proper job, one in an office and all that, one where she couldn’t up and blow off her paperwork like he could, because she cared about her job. (He really ought to find a proper job soon.) Dan couldn’t function in an office environment, as he didn’t like to leave his home and he was too antsy and would drive someone to homicidal thoughts with his constant tapping.

Louise has a smile in her voice, he can hear it. It was the type of voice she used to use when her and Matt had just got together back in highschool. Louise had got into his private school with a scholarship, something Dan respects as he would forever be known as the spoilt rich kid who took off with his parent’s money and dropped out of college on the notion that he wasn’t getting anywhere in life anyways.

“I got promoted! I got a huge ass bonus and Darcy is with her father’s parents for the next few days, so how about you order takeout tonight when I get off and I’ll drive down to see you. We’ll have a grand old time Dan.” The smile doesn’t leave her voice. “A lot of our friends have been asking about you. In fact, I think Chummy ran into your brother at one point and he interrogated her about you. You need to call your brother, Dan. Anyways, you order takeout and I’ll pay you when I get there, I’ll bring the wine. What’s that kind you love? A winery just opened up here.” She bubbles on, making Dan smile tiredly. He really ought to seek out a better paying job, or there would be an eviction notice laid on his steps.

He chuckles to himself, flopping down on the unsteady piano stool. “Verada Pinot Noir. I doubt if they have it, I got it in California when we went for my global competition.” He lightly taps out the left handed notes to the song he played at global competition. 

“I’ll look for it. See you around six, don’t forget to order the takeout at five. Love you Dan!” 

“Love you too, Louise. Get to work.” He teases. 

He hangs up only to realize that his flat didn’t look the immaculate way Louise had left it. There were dishes in the sink, lights hung upon the wall, his blanket was askew. The flat looked lived in. Louise would be proud. 

From the outside looking in, Dan looked alive. And for the inside looking out, he kind of felt alive as well.


	10. Nine || Phil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None that I'm aware of, comment if you'd like me to tag anything.

It’s the day that Lydia comes back after the fight when he feels lonelier than ever. Truth be told, Phil hadn’t really been completely alone in the past eleven years. There was always that small promise that someone would always come back, whether or not it wasn’t in good intent. Not to mention that Dan’s ex had showed up, made him laugh, and when she left, his lights went out. It’s only been a few days, and he’d not caught sight of Dan due to work and pouting, mostly over the fact that Dan’s ex was there and Phil couldn’t impose.

Phil had spent most of his time alone, waiting for a good time to call Dan, maybe apologize for the noise and use it as an excuse for them to hang out instead of Martyn coming all the way down and making a big deal out of things.

Phil decides to go back out to the farmers market after Lydia takes her things. They don’t speak a word, but she looks at him with something akin to exhaustion. She was done fighting too. She left her key in their key bowl and walked away with a framed picture of the two. 

It's raining again, and Phil gets a sudden sense of deja vu when he sees a familiar dark figure walking down the pavement. Phil pulls over and honks his horn once, startling Dan. Phil chuckles as Dan lays his hand over his heart and jumps back, then walks quickly toward the other side of the car and gets in with an implied invitation.

“You really need to start checking the weather before you decide to stock up on your greens.” Phil states, smiling at the disheveled Dan, who pulls his hood off of his head to let it warm. Dan’s hair is puffy and slightly waved, probably from the humidity.

“Why would I do that when I can get a pretty boy to pick me up and take me?” Dan says confidently, but immediately shrinks in on himself, face red. “Sorry, that was inappropriate of me.”

Phil laughs aloud, tongue poking between his teeth. He puts the car in gear and turns on the wipers as the storm rains down harder. “I'm honoured to be your pretty prince saving you from the rain.” He jokes, and Dan relaxes into a soft laughter.

It's silent, but Phil feels the need to fill it. “I apologise for any disturbance the other night. It won't happen again, ever.” He murmurs, glancing at Dan and looking back at the road. Dan seems to get the gist, and Phil is faintly aware of soft tapping noises.

“I'm so sorry.” Dan says softly. “I know the feeling of lonely. My best friend and her daughter just moved.” Phil has a sudden shock wave as he puts two and two together and realises that Dan hadn't been with somebody all this time. “Sorry, you probably don't care.”

Phil parks the car as they arrive, and he turns to Dan with a gentle smile. “I do, it's nice to know someone understands.” They take shelter under the shack’s slightly protective cover. He grabs a basket and hands one to Dan before grabbing one for himself.

Dan seems to take a little bit to muster up some courage to speak. “I, um, I have an extra ticket to a bar tonight. There's live music and stuff. It's not really a bar or anything it's just a diner, not a diner I mean-” Phil cuts him off gently with his reply.

“That sounds great.” Phil reassures, watching Dan fidget with his coat sleeves.

“So would you like to come with me? I promise this isn't just to get a free ride, like not that you probably-” Phil chuckles and throws lettuce into Dan’s basket.

“Lettuce go together then.” He jokes, and Dan’s grin makes his chest ache.

X

“That's all for tonight! I love you all!” She grins and curtsies, letting the cheers ring out as she walks off the stage. Phil was amazed to say the least. 

Dan had brought him to a pub/restaurant that was quaint and in a small corner of town that Phil really didn’t know was there, or how Dan had learned about it in the first place. When he had picked Dan up, Dan was wearing a signature sweat shirt, black with a black Mickey Mouse silhouette on it. 

Phil really couldn’t deny that Dan was attractive, even in his awkward and shy mannerisms and fidgeting and constant tapping. It was all something that Phil could get lost in, and he feels a little bit of his heart lift when Dan giggled at the jokes that the announcer between artists would say to break up the acts. 

Phil is snapped out of his thoughts by Dan asking him a question.

“She’s great, isn't she?” Dan asks, and Phil nods vigorously. “She and I went to the same prodigal school. She went for ukulele and piano and vocals and ameture acting. Dodie is a friend of mine, if you could call it that.” Suddenly arms are wrapped around the boy in front of him, and for a moment Phil feels an urge to pull them away. One might think Phil was possessive, but he liked to think of it as protection.

“Daniel! You came!” Dodie chirps and Dan gently pries her hands away. Phil can’t help but do a tiny victory dance in his mind when Dan does it.

“I promised I'd try. Dodie, this is Phil, he's my neighbor.” He gestures toward Phil, and he waves with a polite smile, receiving one in return. 

She grins and Phil can see how Dan could be friends with her. She's pretty, talented, and bubbly. The musical prodigies are both wonderfully different and alike, and Phil watches contentedly as Dodie pulls Dan out of his shell. Phil sends reassuring smiles when Dan looks over nervously and shy.

The entire exchange, Phil can only watch as Dan runs through the cycles of his anxious mannerisms; tap tap tap, move the tapping to his leg, pulls on the sleeves of his sweatshirt, bites fingernails, tug a little more, repeat. Dodie keeps the conversation going, even when Dan gives short replies.

Dodie integrates Phil into the conversation too. “Has Dan ever made you his wonderful stir fry? He would make it at the boarding school when cooks would go on strike. Rotten place, I tell you.” 

Phil looks over to Dan who’s red in the face and staring at the table intensely. “He hasn't, actually. We’ll have to try that sometime, won't we Dan?” Dan looks up and he's equal parts pale and red. Dan nods in response. 

“Well I ought to get going. It was so nice seeing you Dan.” She hugs him and whispers something to Dan who nods and turns red again at the end.

She turns and hugs Phil, leaning down to whisper something in his ear as well.

“Watch out for him, yeah? He needs somebody like you around.” She gives him a warm smile that Phil returns. “It was nice meeting you, Phil. See you around!” Phil waves and Dan grins fondly. Phil couldn’t help but to think and mull over her words.

The pair sit in comfortable silence until Dan picks something off of his plate and throws it onto Phil’s. “Shallot we go then?” He grins. Phil picks up the vegetable, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

“We shallot.”

Phil feels an odd feeling in his chest, making his lungs hurt slightly and his breathing falter for a minute. He’s got a grin on his face wide enough to scrunch his eyes, and he’s happy at the moment. Phil finally understands why there’s almost always a rainbow after a thunderstorm.


	11. Ten || Dan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of abuse, brief and vague mentions of self harm, bodily image, sensitive topics.

Dan woke up to the sound of mail being shoved through the slot of his front door. He ought to get it fixed, or oil it with something, but he couldn’t be bothered. Besides, it wasn’t ruining his morning, it was just slightly unpleasant. 

As he gets up, he realizes that he had fallen asleep on the couch again, after he and Phil went to the bar. His night had been pleasant, and Phil seemed to enjoy the music and the food and service, and surprisingly, Dan. Afterwards, Dan and Phil cruised around the town, Phil talking about little things that reminded him of family or experiences he’d had, and Dan showed him the odds and ins of the town. 

Dan had come home and played to his heart’s content, thinking about the different things they’d talked about and laughed about, and how Phil had hugged him before they parted ways for the night. 

Dan should feel achy and irritable from the lumpy and uncomfortable sofa, that he could have pulled out into a mattress (but didn’t), but he feels refreshed and slightly less like shit than when he usually wakes up.

That is, until he takes a look at the mail. One from the phone company, and one from the landlord. Then there the three more letters, all stamped with the Howell family crest; a swirling golden ‘H’. How had they even found his address?They’re bound together with a red ribbon, and he rolls his eyes internally. The moths are eating away at his skin, his bones, and fluttering against his heart. He tries his best to keep calm as he sees the names on each of them; Karen, Derek, and Dakota Howell. 

Dan opens his father’s first. 

_Daniel Howell,_

_You’re requested to attend the Howell family auction at the Howell estate on June 11, followed by a luncheon on estate grounds._

_You’re welcome to bring a guest, and stay in your old room. We’d like you to stay to go over the terms of your inheritance and place in the family company. If you don’t show, your name will be automatically removed from the shareholders position._

_We believe it is in your best interest to come, Daniel._

_Derek Howell_

Really? It’s one thing to send a random spur of the moment card and host an event on your sons birthday, but putting in their opinion on his best interest? Dan felt disgusted, and the moths are fluttering through his body, and his hand shakes as he slowly tears open the seal on his mum’s card.

_Daniel,_

_I hope you can attend our auction and lunch so we can discuss your inheritance. You’ve still got a chance to redeem yourself after the spectacle you made of leaving. You’re permitted to bring a guest if you’ve got one, and you’ll stay in your old room._

_Karen Howell_

Dan can feel it, even through the letter, the power she holds over him. He can feel the rattling of his bones, the sharp claws against his skin. They found where he lived, probably knew his job predicament, they probably wanted to buy him back into the family, prove their ‘nurturing and love for their son’ despite his shameful actions. He knew that if he came, they won, but if he didn’t, he lost. He’d never be allowed near their home, near them again, near the company that Dan truly deserved after his contribution. Dan feels the moths crowding in his chest, and making it hard to breathe. 

_Dan,_

_Please come home. Mum and Dad are trying to bring you back into the family, and if you don’t want to because of them, do it for me. I can’t run this company alone, Dan._

_Besides, I’ve got to give you a birthday present._

_On behalf of Collin and I, we miss you, and please come back, Dan._

_Kota_

Dan feels the moths run around him and he shakes like a piece of grass in a tornado. He doesn’t know whether to feel angry, scared, guilty, but he feels, and that’s enough to make him run to the bathroom in attempt to avoid bile staining his rug.

Dan puts all of the letters back into their respective envelopes, and moves slowly to the kitchen and sets them out on the counter to study them.

He’s got one month, one month to decide. 

 

Dan leaves the letters on the counter and finds himself in the shower, sitting under an endless stream of water before he performs unjust acts upon himself.  
But instead, he leaves the tools in their hiding spot, and looks upon the old. He hadn't done anything for what, two or three weeks? For some reason, the number wasn't satisfying enough for him to let go of.

He washes up before getting out to clean himself up, starting with the slight hair on his chin, and ending with a face wash Louise must have snuck into the cabinet. He ends up in a dark hoodie once more, sitting out of sight of his neighbor's window and watching the man water the plants lain on the window sill. Dan watches in silent awe of the beauty of the man. 

Dan picks up his laptop and goes through requests for various jobs, only after Phil leaves the window looking discontent and slightly upset.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr {pretive.tumblr.com}
> 
> Twitter {twitter.com/pretivity}
> 
> Hullo! Jay here, I know, disappointing.
> 
> I'd like to make this the disclaimer stating that I didn't go suddenly on a whim and just DELETE SAGE FOREVER, no, it's much less dramatic. Basically, I've been emotionally detached from my writing for a few months due to personal issues I've been facing. Upon rereading, and with other helpful opinions, I've noticed that there are lots of loose ends, plot holes, and contradicting events in the story that desperately needed fixed, and grammatical and improper errors. Over the past few weeks, I've been going through and re- editing area that needed it desperately, making transitions between chapters smoother, and trying to slow down and develop the characters and the plot that I'd originally come up with. I've also taken things away from the plot, that were distracting or not vital to the plot.
> 
> I'd also like to apologize for any comments that were deleted when I removed the chapters. I've read through all of them (even if i didn't reply), and I've got them all in my email and they're greatly appreciated.


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